Seeing is Believing
by Uncle Charlie
Summary: The girls in Public Relations discover just what it means to rescue Napoleon and Illya. A new Working Stiffs adventure. Suggested by Laurose8.


_I do wonder at how optimum the public knowledge of UNCLE is, including law enforcement's. Keeping such a low profile, but such a positive one at the same time, must take some work. __Laurose_

Whoever wrote that stupid jingle about stick and stones breaking bones, but names never hurting obviously never found themselves at the tail end of being taunted. Otherwise they would never have been so cavalier with their proclamations. I'm here to say some words do hurt – a lot. I know as I grew up amidst a whirl of them.

I have a disease. I don't know what you call it, but my body is at war against me. I can eat anything I want and as much and often as I want. After a huge meal, it is not unusual for me to get on the scale and discover that I have lost weight. Sounds like a dream come true, doesn't it? It's not. I'm 5'7" and weight ninety pounds, fully dressed. Nothing fits and men don't look twice at a woman whose hipbones protrude more than her breasts do. Doctors and specialists just shake their heads at me.

Growing up was fine until I hit puberty. Then I noticed I was losing weight, even though I wasn't trying to. Other girls were developing soft curves; I had sharp angles. High school was brutal. I was voted _Most Likely to become a Scarecrow_. I'm sure they thought it was funny, but I cried for a week, even missing my graduation.

Then one day it was like a light went on and I decided that I was through hiding. If I stayed locked in my room, then **they**, whoever **they** are, won. I took on the world, albeit through correspondence classes and earned my degree in public relations. You see, I might look different, but give me a phone and I will level the playing field. I could empathize with people, while gradually working out a suitable solution that was mutually beneficial. I can charm the socks off a snake if I have to. The same holds true for the written word.

After graduating, I faced the frightening task of looking for a job. Most of the time they didn't even let me have an application to fill out. The day I met my destiny wasn't very much different from any other. Door after door had been slammed in my face and I was consoling myself with an extra large foot long hot dog with everything and a soda chaser. There was a bench in the park that was set sort of out of sight. It was usually empty and it was there that I would sit and eat lunch, dry my tears and get ready for another round of finger pointing and disappointment.

I was just starting in on a box of Cracker Jacks when I heard someone approaching. It was an old gentleman, his hands full of his own lunch.

"Would you mind if I joined you?"

To be honest, it was the first time anyone had asked me that and I stumbled over myself with politeness. "Please, I would love to have some company. I'm Vanessa."

"I'm Tom. How do you do, Vanessa?"

"I'm fine." I set my face into a smile and hoped it didn't look too gargoylish.

"What is a lovely lady like you doing sitting all alone on such a fine day?"

Okay, it may have been a line, but never had something made me so happy and shocked me so deeply at the same time. At first I thought he was being cruel, but one look into those blue eyes of his and I knew he wasn't leading me on.

Right then and there, I fell in love with Tom Kelly. Okay, so he was sixty years my senior, but it was still love. After that, we met there often, always for lunch. His tummy hung over his belt and it jiggled when he laughed, just like Santa, and it seemed to me that he was always laughing.

"I see you here every day and yet there are no office buildings close by. So, tell me, Vanessa, what do you do for a living?"

"Well, I'm trained in public relations, but no one will hire me."

"Why not?"

"Isn't it obvious?" I gestured to my emaciated-looking frame. "Would you want someone like me actually working for you? They see the outward me and don't even give me a chance."

"I could fix that."

"What do you mean?"

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold business card. "Come and work for my uncle. I am a scout for him. I look for people who I think will be a good fit for our company. I think you will fit right in."

Suddenly, I went from being nobody to being somebody with the force of UNCLE behind her. Even though we are a 'secret organization' as it were, we still have to interface with society. We have several businesses or fronts, as we call them, and each one of those requires regular contact with the 'real' world. That was me, well, not entirely me. There was a group of four of us, each one of us challenged in some way, but very gifted at public relations. A bigger group of oddities, you'd never find, but we immediately became each other's friend. I not only had a job, and one that paid enough for me to afford my own place, but I had friends, good friends. And I owed it all to Tom and UNCLE. I made sure I thanked God for them every night before I went to sleep.

It was a typical day in the PR section of UNCLE.

"Mr. Abernathy, I cannot express how much we value our relationship with you. You are very important to us," Alicia replied by phone. Alicia had suffered a car accident as a young girl and the damage to her face was considerable. Most people took one look at her and thought her a monster. Many never got past the scars to discover the lovely woman inside. She was the first one at your side in the case of trouble, the first one to laugh at your jokes or herself. She loved life in a way that few people did. It made sense considering how close she came to losing it. She held up a light blue card and we all nodded. Alicia had a talker – an older person who was so desperate for any attention, they would keep us on the phone for what seemed like forever just to hear another voice. In the PR business, it is not always about knowing what to say and when, but also when to keep your mouth shut and just listen. It was amazing how many complaints and concerns could be met by just letting someone have their say.

Laura nodded and gave her a shaky thumbs up. "I can understand your concern, Miss Hawkings. I can assure you those noises you heard were merely children playing with firecrackers. You know how kids are. No, not gunfire. From what I've been told, it's much more like a _bang_ than a _pop_." Laura had cerebral palsy and her body jerked uncontrollably. She was also the best cook I'd ever met and she kept us all fat and happy… well, happy, in my case.

Marcia made a face and we all laughed. Then my phone rang and I picked up the call. "UNCLE imports, customer service, how may I help you?" There was nothing but silence, so I tried again, a little louder. "UNCLE Imports, may I help you?"

There was a noise, sort of a wheeze and my first impulse was to slam down the receiver. Yes, even UNCLE gets obscene phone calls. Yet something stayed my hand. I decided to try again. "Hello?"

"Help…" It was so soft I nearly didn't hear it. I gestured for everyone to quiet down.

"Hello?" There was a long pause and a cough.

"Help me." There was another pause and then words that sent a chill through me. "Agent down."

"Oh, oh my goodness! Stay with me." I covered the receiver. "I've got a downed agent." My co-workers leapt into action.

Immediately, Laura connected with Section Three. "This is MA-4315. I have a report of an agent down."

Marcia was busy setting up a trace on the call. She shook her head and I spoke slowly. "I need you to stay on the line with me, okay?"

"'Kay."

"Who is this?"

"Solo." I gasped. We all knew Napoleon Solo. He was like a god to us, gorgeous and charming. I listened to the women he dated and sighed. No man would ever take me out to dinner and dancing. Guys took one look at me and figured I stopped eating sometime just after the last ice age.

"Stay on the phone with me, Napoleon. Don't hang up." That got the attention of the others. Poor Alicia was trying to get rid of her call, but she was too kind just to hang up on her caller.

"Who… this?"

"I'm Vanessa. You don't know me, I'm in PR."

"P… R? Puerto Rico, not New York?"

"Public Relations. We're on the line with Section Three."

Marcia gave me a thumbs up to let me know she had his location and scribbled down an address for Laura, who repeated it to the Section Three operator.

"Don't worry. We've alerted them as to your location. They are on their way to you."

"Ill…"

"You're sick, too? Did you hit your head?" I knew a concussion could lead to nausea.

"No. Illya… so quiet."

I held up two fingers and Laura changed her count. "Don't worry, Napoleon. There will be someone there soon. Just keep talking to me."

"'Kay." There was a long pause, and then, "What are you wearing?"

"MISTER Solo!" There was a weak laugh and I was suddenly so in love with the man my heart ached. Here he was, possibly with a dead partner, grievously injured and he was joking with me, trying to put me at ease. "I'll have you know my skirt is quite respectable…" I took a deep breath and added, "And my garter belt matches my shoes."

All three of my co-workers gaped at me. I smiled and shook my head as I hit the speaker button so that they could hear as well. There was a strange sudden noise on the other end and I sat up sharply. "Napoleon? Are you all right? What was that?"

"Rats… close."

"Oh my god," Laura whispered and I saw tears glistening in her eyes.

"What's their ETA?" I whispered back.

"Five minutes."

"Napoleon, they will be there in five minutes. Napoleon?" I heard gunfire. "Napoleon!"

"Don't yell… No more rats…"

It seemed like a year before I heard voices in the background and a strange voice replaced Napoleon's. The man let us know they had the agents, who were both still alive, and were headed back home. I thanked them, hung up and then had a good cry. I was weak with relief.

A few weeks passed and life moved on.

I pulled my cardigan a little closer. I'm always cold. There was a knock on the door and Alicia got up to get it. She peeked around the frame, hiding most of her face.

"Yes?"

"I have a delivery here. It's addressed to the lovely ladies of PR?" The flower guy had a huge bouquet of flowers, all sorts. He brought it in and tried hard to not stare as we crowded around the arrangement. It was safe to say that none of us had ever received flowers before.

"Who are they from?" Marcia asked.

I plucked out the card and read it. "Two grateful agents. It must be Napoleon and his partner."

"Illya." Laura had it bad for the Russian agent. I had to admit that God didn't make any mistakes putting him together either.

"How lovely." Alicia buried her face in the flowers and inhaled. "Oh, it smells heavenly."

The next week another bouquet and the following week, another. Each one was greeted with the same enthusiasm as the last and then nothing. We were all a little sad.

"I guess we should have expected that it had to stop," I said.

"It was nice while it lasted." Alicia touched the two flowers she still had from the last arrangement

"I've never had so many lovely flowers in my life." Laura had pressed some and they decorated her bulletin board.

"It was like… well, I was just like everyone else. You know, normal." Marcia sighed and reached for her headset.

We were all pretty subdued that day and it was just before quitting time when there was a knock at the door. I know the same thing went through all of our minds.

I went to the door and opened it. Two men stood there, both in evening wear. Napoleon and Illya – they were so handsome in their tuxes. Obviously they were on their way out.

"Hello," I said hesitantly and offered my hand. "May I help you?"

"Vanessa," Napoleon said with a smile. "I'd recognize your voice anywhere." There was no revulsion from either of them as I opened the door wide so that all four of us were able to see them and they us.

"You're okay?" I was a little afraid of the answer as they still both looked a little peaked.

"Not 100%, but we are getting there." He gestured over his shoulder and several women came in, each one carrying something. One woman had several long plastic garment bags. Another one carried two small suitcases. Yet another carried hat boxes. "Illya and I would like to show you our appreciation."

"But you already have with all those flowers," Laura stammered. She's never been this close to her dream and did know quite what to do with Illya a mere arm's length away.

"Merely a small gesture until we could repay you properly," Illya said with a kind smile.

"What is all of this?" The women seemed to be setting up shop, taking things out of the suitcases, boxes and bags.

"We are taking you four out on the town and we knew we were probably going to catch you all unawares, so we brought along hairdressers, cosmeticians, and several outfits for you to choose from. Ladies?"

Talk about a night to remember. That night people did stare at us, but for the first time in my life I didn't care. I was in the arms of not one but two handsome men being whirled about the floor. That night I discovered what real beauty is. It's not the way someone looks that makes people stare; rather it's the beauty of their soul. From that moment on, I decided I would never shrink or hide again. Now I am a motivational speaker, at least on the weekends. There is nothing that can make me leave my friends and the people I love. Now, that's good PR.


End file.
